by Kyra Halland
She… Lainie. Silas tried to force words from his mouth – if they did anything to Lainie, he would kill them. But his tormented body was beyond his shattered mind’s ability to command.
“He’s conscious,” the man said.
“Ah,” the woman replied. Silas was rolled onto his back, and the stern face of an elderly woman appeared, hovering over him. Black hair framed her pale face, and eyes the faded blue of the spring sky studied him. Recognition leaped in his mind – he had seen that face before, but not on a woman. Before he could recall where he had seen it, the sense of familiarity slipped away.
“Now, let’s see if this works,” the woman said.
Something pressed against his mind, pushing inwards. He felt things ripping loose inside of himself, felt himself pushed back, buried in a maelstrom of confusion. Lainie, don’t – he cried out in his mind as his consciousness was smothered behind a heavy curtain of darkness.
* * *
AFTER NINE DAYS of travel, Lainie came within view of Sandostra, spread out across the hills south of the mighty Dostra River, lit golden by the late afternoon sun. She had made good time; the road, which followed the curves of the Dostra River, was well-paved and well-maintained, and must have also had some sort of magical treatment on it. The soft, cool rain showers that had passed overhead, seeming so out of season in early autumn, hadn’t flooded it or turned it to mud; instead, the water ran off, leaving the road dry as ever.
The country she had traveled through was heavily built up, with towns no more than five or ten leagues apart; in the Wildings, you could ride for days without coming to a town. In the countryside, large, fancy houses stood widely spaced from each other, no more than two or three between one town and the next. The land around the big houses was fenced off into farming plots and livestock pastures, with smaller houses scattered among them. There was no open range anywhere. It was no wonder that Granadaia had come to depend so heavily on Wildings cattle for meat; there just wasn’t room here for big herds of cattle to roam and graze.
The big houses belonged to the mage landowners, Lainie guessed, and the smaller houses to the Plain farmers and herders, who were allowed to live on and work land that had been passed down in their families. The Plains’ houses were smaller than her Pa’s ranch house but neat and sturdy-looking, and the fields were bursting with crops nearly ready to harvest. The pastures were lush and green, and streams, rivers, ponds, and even lakes were plentiful.
It looked like a secure, comfortable life for the Plain folk, but Lainie knew well that the appearance was deceiving. The comfort and security the Plains enjoyed were entirely dependent on the will of the ruling mages. Home, land, freedom, and even life could be taken away at any time, for any reason, as had happened to Silas’s Plain boyhood friend Bil and his family, and as Lainie’s grandmother had done to her own family after she found out she was a mage. When that happened, the family was driven out of their home and off their land, and left destitute and desperate with little choice but to sell themselves into one form of servitude or another – or to leave Granadaia altogether.
No wonder so many Plains had left everything behind and gone to settle in the Wildings. That was the stock she came from, Lainie thought proudly. The ones who didn’t bow down and give up, the ones who weren’t content to trade their dignity and freedom for a subsistence that relied entirely on the will and whims of those who set themselves up as their rulers, the ones who valued their freedom no matter what hardships came with it. That strength and self-reliance and love of freedom were bred into her flesh and blood and bones. And Silas had the same qualities, along with an un-magelike distaste for lording it over people. Neither of them belonged here; the Wildings was home, and so long as he was alive and she had breath in her body, she would do whatever it took to get him out of here and take him home.
Under Granadaian law, as Lainie had learned in school, any mage could stop any traveling Plain at any time, for any reason or no reason at all, and demand to see the papers that would identify him as either a bondservant traveling with the permission of his mage master or as a freeman, and indeed she had seen this happen a few times as she traveled to Sandostra. To avoid being stopped, questioned, and arrested for lack of papers, she had kept an obvious shield on her power, worn her mage ring openly on her right forefinger, and tried to assume that air of arrogance that all mages, Silas included, seemed to have been born with. She must have been good at the arrogance; the Plain folk she crossed paths with along the way would step aside, removing their hats, and bow and touch their foreheads in a gesture uncomfortably similar to the gesture of reverence used when praying to the gods. It didn’t feel right, having people treat her like she was better than them, but telling them not to do it would only draw more attention to herself.
She had attracted enough attention as it was; the whole way, Lainie hadn’t seen a single woman, not even the poorest Plain farmwives, wearing men’s clothing. She had hidden away her gun and her distinctive cowhand’s hat, but the pants, shirt, boots, and duster coat were enough to draw stares. The only dress she owned was the one she had borrowed for the dance after the cattle market, and she didn’t want to ruin it with travel, so she pulled that mage arrogance around herself like a cloak and did her best to act like being dressed this way was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Though Lainie was accustomed to sleeping outside, she had been uneasy at the thought of camping by herself along the roadside in this unfamiliar land. Fortunately, as towns were frequent along the road, so were inns. The Plain innkeepers and staff at the humble inns she had chosen were polite and respectful and didn’t ask questions, and the customers, both Plains and mages, were too occupied by their own business to pay much mind to her.
At each inn, she asked the bartenders, who were the most likely to have heard all the gossip, if a party of five or six riders with one or two injured men had come through in the last few ninedays. From their answers, it sounded like there were so many travelers on the road that no one group stood out, and no groups with any injured men had stayed at any of the inns where she asked. That didn’t mean Silas and his captors hadn’t come that way; they might have stayed at different inns, or not stopped at inns at all. Sandostra was where the Mage Council was; that had to be where the hunters were taking him. Other than asking her questions, she kept to herself at the inns and retreated to her room as soon as she was done with her supper.
As the Dostra River flowed south and east, it widened to where there were almost as many boats traveling on it as there were coaches and wagons on the road. A few of the boats were enormous, as big as two hotels standing side by side, and had dozens of passengers standing at the rails or sitting on chairs on the decks, watching the riverbanks go by. Lainie had stared in amazement the first time she saw one of those boats; she and Silas had crossed the Gap River on a large ferry raft on their way from the Bads to Bentwood Gulch, but she had never imagined boats that big – or a river with enough water in it that you could float boats that size down it.
Looking at the giant riverboats, she had debated taking one the rest of the way to Sandostra. She had plenty of money; surely she could afford the fare for herself and the horses, and it might get her there a little faster. But it would be harder to avoid other people in the close confines of a boat, and if something happened, she wouldn’t be able to escape. Sandostra was only another four or five days away; she weighed long days riding her good, strong horses at a steady pace against the boats’ slow speed and the frequent stops they would likely have to make, and decided it would be almost as fast and far less risky to continue traveling by land.
Now, after a full nineday on the road, Lainie pulled Mala and Abenar to a halt a few leagues short of the long, arching bridge that led across the Dostra River to Sandostra and stared at the strange sight of a city built on hills and not just on lowlands. Across the river, an enormous building with tall towers perched atop the highest hill at the western edge of the city, high above the river,
lit peach and gold by the lowering sun. Lainie had learned in school about the royal palace where the Plain king and his family still lived even though the real power in Granadaia belonged to the mage families and the Mage Council. It was hard to believe she was seeing the famous palace with her own eyes.
Lainie stared a little longer at the endless sprawl of buildings on the hills. Even looking at the city from a distance, she could barely wrap her mind around the size of it. It was said that upwards of seven hundred thousand people lived there. How could there even be that many people in the whole world? What did they all do with themselves?
And how was she ever going to find her way through that vast city to the Mage Council and Silas?
One step at a time, she told herself, and rode on towards the bridge that would take her across the wide river into the shining city on the hills.
Chapter 4
AFTER A GOOD half hour of wandering through the city, Lainie stopped and looked around, thoroughly lost and confused. In the Wildings, most towns had one main street and maybe a cross-street. The bigger towns, like Bentwood Gulch, might have four or five streets, meeting at square angles and running straight from one side of town to the other. But the streets of Sandostra wound up and down the hills, ran into other streets at strange angles, crossed back over themselves, and came to unexpected dead ends. Buildings two, three, even four floors high, built of brick or stone and covered with plaster painted soft shades of blue, yellow, green, tan, and pink, with fancy carvings around the windows and doorways, stood crowded side to side against each other along the streets, making the city feel like an endless maze of canyons.
The streets were packed with more people than Lainie had ever thought could live in one place. She saw rich people in fine, expensive-looking clothes, ordinary people in ordinary clothes that were still finer than anything Lainie had ever owned, and poor people who looked like pretty much everyone Lainie had known growing up. The wealthy Island women were especially elegant in gowns with flowing skirts and gracefully-draped lengths of fabric over close-fitting bodices, richly trimmed with lace, beads, and embroidery. They wore flowers tucked into their dark hair and jewels that glittered against their smooth brown skin. Like out in the country, none of the women, rich or poor, were wearing men’s clothing. Lainie felt even more shabby, especially compared to the Island women, but she held her head high and her shoulders straight and tried to ignore the stares directed her way.
Few people were on horseback; most people walked or rode in wagons or carriages, so Lainie had dismounted and was leading Abenar and Mala by the reins. The horses were nervous, with all the traffic and people and close-in buildings, and she felt just as unsettled as they did. The sense of power was thick in the air; she kept her power suppressed so that her mage senses wouldn’t be overwhelmed and because, even with so many mages around, her Wildings-born power might stand out.
From the corner where she had stopped, she surveyed her surroundings again, trying to get an idea of where she was and establish a sense of direction. The palace, looking over the city from its hilltop, and the lowering sun were to her right, so that was west and she was facing south – but that didn’t mean anything when she didn’t know where anything in Sandostra was. What she wanted right now was to find a hotel, but so far she hadn’t seen any. There had to be hotels in Sandostra; Bentwood Gulch had three, and even tiny Ripgap, no more than a crossroads in the middle of the desert, had one. But damned if she knew where to look. If she couldn’t even find a hotel, how was she ever going to find Silas?
A number of identical small black carriages with gold stripes were rolling through the streets. From time to time one would stop for someone who had waved it down and the person would get in, or the person riding in it would pay the driver and get out. So they were carriages for hire, like the mail coaches in the Wildings that went between towns that had mail depots, that would also take on paying passengers. Lainie wondered how much it cost to get one of the black carriages to take you somewhere in the city, then remembered how much money was in her and Silas’s packs. She could afford it, and that would make finding her way around the enormous city so much easier. Surely, one of those carriages could even take her to a hotel, except right now she also had the horses to worry about. She doubted Mala and Abenar would willingly follow a carriage through the strange streets.
She looked down the streets that met at the intersection where she stood, trying to decide if one of them looked more likely than the others to have a hotel on it. She supposed she could ask someone, but the thought of approaching a stranger and drawing their attention made her cringe.
“Hey, you’re blocking the way!” A man’s angry voice startled Lainie out of her thoughts. She moved herself and the horses aside to let the man pass. He was dressed in rough, worn work clothes and was pushing a wheelbarrow full of potatoes. As he went past, glaring at her, the sun glinted on the ring on her right hand, which was holding Abenar’s reins. The man’s eyes widened. Immediately he set down his wheelbarrow, doffed his battered hat, and bowed his head, touching his fingers to his forehead. “Madam. I’m sorry. I didn’t know… please forgive me.” His accent was softer than the crisp, sharp upper-class Granadaian accent, closer to the drawl of the Wildings.
“It’s okay,” Lainie said, then she wondered if the Wildings word would be understood here. “I’m sorry. It’s all right. I’m the one who was in the way.”
He bowed deeply. “Thank you, madam. You are most gracious.” He took up his wheelbarrow again and started on his way.
That load of potatoes had to be going somewhere, Lainie realized – maybe to a hotel with a dining room. “Excuse me!” she called after the man.
He stopped and turned, looking nervous. “Yes, madam?”
She hated that look on his face, like he was scared of her, so she tried to speak in a way that was kind and friendly but not too friendly for a mage speaking to a Plain. “I just got into town, and I’m looking for a hotel, nothing too fancy. Can you tell me where to find one?”
“I’d suggest the Bayview, madam. Where I’m going myself. Quality folk like yourself stay there, who are just in town for business and don’t want to make a show. If you please, you can come with me and I’ll show you the way.”
Lainie had never imagined that anyone would ever call her “quality”, but she tried to act like she was used to it. “Thank you,” she said.
They were in a valley between two long hills running north and south side by side. The man began leading her along a street that wound back and forth up the hill to the left. A few times, instead of following the main street, he took shortcuts through steep, narrow alleys that climbed straight up between one leg of the street and the next. It was a tough climb, but Lainie noted with satisfaction as they got near the top that she was barely breathing any harder than usual. In spite of her illness last winter, the months of intensive magical training and working on the cattle drive had left her in good physical condition.
They took another alley that led between buildings and through a wooded area over the crest of the hill, and came out onto a view that took Lainie’s breath away. At the foot of the hilly, sprawling city lay a vast expanse of water, dark bluish-purple touched with highlights of orange and gold in the light of the sun sinking behind the city. The water stretched out farther than Lainie could see to the north and south. Ahead of her to the east, across the water, the misty humps of more hills reached out to mostly enclose the bay except for a single narrow gap. Beyond that gap, the water stretched on endlessly to the darkening horizon.
Dostra Bay, and the sea. Lainie had never imagined so much water in one place, or so much water in all the world. She wondered if it was true what the stories said, that it was all too salty to drink.
“It’s a fine sight to see, isn’t it?” the man asked.
“I’ve never seen the like,” Lainie said, unable to take her eyes away from the bay. Ahead and somewhat to her right, between where she stood and the bay, a tower
rose high above the other buildings in the middle of the city. A number of smaller towers sticking out near the top of the tower gave it a menacing, mysterious look. “What’s that tower?” she asked.
The man gave her a strange look. “Why, that’s the Mage Council tower, madam. I should think every mage knew that.”
Lainie tried not to wince at her mistake. “This is my first time in Sandostra. I’ve heard of it, but that isn’t the same as seeing it.” The sight of the tower gave her a cold, heavy feeling in her heart and the pit of her stomach. If she were the Mage Council and were holding prisoners, she would put them in those little towers up near the top. She hoped she wasn’t going to have to make her way in secret all the way up that tower to rescue Silas and then back down again.
“Begging your pardon, madam,” the man said, “but they’ll be wanting these potatoes.” He led her down the winding street on the bay side of the hill to its second pass across the hill, where the Bayview Hotel sat on the uphill side of the street, facing east towards the bay. The hotel stood three stories high and occupied a good part of that block, and was far grander than any building Lainie had ever seen in the Wildings. If this was nothing too fancy, she couldn’t even imagine what the finest hotel in Sandostra might be like. She fished out some loose drinas from her pocket and handed them to the man, who bowed and tipped his hat again then pushed the wheelbarrow around the side of the building. Lainie hitched Mala and Abenar to a fancy brass-topped hitching post in front of the hotel, then gathered up the knapsacks and saddlebags and went inside.
The large lobby had a high ceiling and thick, soft carpets of dark gold. Blue paper printed with swirling gold designs covered the walls, curtains of thick, plush gold fabric trimmed with heavy braid framed the windows, and upholstered chairs and low tables made of polished dark red wood stood in cozy groups. Delicious smells drifted over from a dining room that opened off the lobby. Lainie’s stomach twisted in hunger; food always seemed to be the last thing on her mind lately.